


Like Ships in the Night

by jncar



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Angst, Ensemble Cast, F/M, Gen, The New Neverland
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-11
Updated: 2013-12-11
Packaged: 2018-01-04 09:22:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,803
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1079281
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jncar/pseuds/jncar
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After landing in Storybrooke, Killian and Emma keep passing each other by, their troubles weighing them down. Set during "The New Neverland."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Like Ships in the Night

**Author's Note:**

> The title and a few lines are inspired by Matt Kearney's song "Ships in the Night." The lines drawn from the episode are clearly not mine.

Killian hovers on the edge of the group, standing near David, where at least he can offer moral support regarding the dreamshade cure, because he certainly has nothing else to offer during this touching reunion.

All around him are families and friends embracing, laughing, smiling. And he stands alone.

He tries to smile with them. He is happy for them, after all. He fought for this—he risked everything he had left for this. And he _is_ happy.

But this place isn't his home. It's _their_ home, and he's still just an outsider. He drifts further and further away from the cheerful, noisy group until he is standing near Tink, who looks as lost as he feels.

"So this is Storybrooke?" she says rhetorically.

He nods slowly, watching as Emma and her family gather around Henry and then move as a group down the street into town, without so much as a glance back toward the docks. He feels as if his heart is walking away with them, and he feels more adrift than he ever did during his centuries in Neverland. He swallows hard. "Aye. That it is."

They stand like that for a few more moments before the old lady— _Granny_ , as they all call her—raises her voice to announce a welcome home party at the diner, all food and drink on the house. 

Not having anything else to do, nor anywhere else to go, Killian glances at Tink and angles his head toward the departing crowd. "Shall we? It's been a good long while since either of us had a proper hot meal."

So they fall in behind the dwarves and the other revelers, though Killian's eyes can't help but glance ahead to see Emma and her group heading toward Rumple's— _Mr. Gold's_ —shop.

Just yesterday he'd have been a part of any such venture, but not anymore. Now Emma walks with her mother, her boy, and Neal. Her family. Just as it should be.

He will be happy for her, he tells himself. She has what she wanted—she has what she fought for. So he _will_ be happy for her.

But he doesn't have to be happy for himself.

~ ~ ~

Beneath the elation and relief, Emma feels a bone-deep exhaustion that threatens to overtake her at any moment. But she keeps smiling, because she truly is happy— _so happy_ —that they all made it back safe and sound. And she keeps moving because they might be home, but there is still so much to do. There always is.

It isn't until the walk to Gold's shop that a deeper unease sets in. They are all safe, but something still feels wrong.

It's in the way Henry keeps leaning to turn at every intersection, watching everyone else's feet to see which way they go before shifting his weight to keep following them the right way. It's in the way his eyes pass over every shop and landmark as if he is memorizing them for the first time. What really happened to him in Neverland? Emma isn't sure—she's not even sure she really _wants_ to know. But it goes more than skin deep. Pan really screwed with his head, and this is going to take more than a few hugs to fix.

She watches Henry closely as they enter Gold's shop—the way his eyes rake over the shelves as if searching for something. Is there an item Pan told him about that he's searching for? Or is he just watching for shadows lurking in the corners?

She turns her head, expecting to meet the reassuring sight of a pair of blue eyes in a scruff-covered face, and she sways on her feet when she doesn't find them.

Hook isn't here. He didn't follow them.

She shakes her head a little and turns back to watch Gold kneel on his floor to access a hidden safe. Why would Hook have followed? No one invited him. This isn't his home—it's hers. His home is still anchored back at the docks.

She feels certain that he simply stayed behind to look after his ship. It was battered and beaten quite a bit during their voyage, and she knows how much it means to him. That must be why he didn't follow, she reasons, though his absence stirs an unpleasant knot in her gut that she really doesn't have the energy to think about right now.

She puts it out of her mind and turns back to the issues at hand. Like Henry. Because something there just isn't right. She'll have to talk to Archie about starting sessions, again. Maybe they should all go together—Henry, Regina, hell, even Neal and Gold, to start their own twisted version of family therapy. It couldn't hurt, right?

Her misgivings grow during the walk to Granny's, as Henry continues to look strangely disoriented in the town he's spent his whole life in. Something is very wrong, and, somehow, she knows it'll be up to her to solve it.

Her eyes unconsciously dart to her sides several times during the walk, and though she'd not admit out loud she knows they are searching for the black-clad figure that always walked beside her through the dark jungle of Neverland.

But she needs to let go. They aren't in Neverland anymore. They're home.

Her shoulders begin to relax just a touch when she steps through the doors of Granny's, taking in the familiar sights and smells—and, immediately, seeing Hook perched at the counter with a plate of chicken strips and mashed potatoes in front of him.

He smiles around his mouthful, and her muscles continue to uncoil as she smiles back. "Looks good," she says.

He mutters some kind of agreement through his full mouth, and before she can reply she is swept away again by the welcoming crowd, Granny and the dwarves ushering her and Henry to a table with her parents and Neal (people are still shocked to see him alive), and piling plates of steaming food in front of them all.

Emma's never been so happy at the sight of real food in her life, and she quickly digs into the burger and fries in front of her. However, she frowns a little when Henry takes slow, tentative bites, as if something is wrong with his favorite cheeseburger.

"Everything okay, kid?" she asks.

"Oh, yeah, it's great," he says brightly, taking a large bite and chewing away happily.

But it's still not right. 

After they finish eating, everyone in the diner is eager for a personal hello and Emma's family begins to circulate, but Henry stays put in the booth. She frowns, pondering what to do next, when an idea strikes.

She pulls Neal aside, "Hey—did you leave Henry's fairytale book up in your room?"

He nods, looking a little puzzled, "Yeah, sure. It's probably still there unless Granny cleared the place out."

"Great. Thanks." She squeezes his shoulder and heads for Granny to get a key.

She finds the book easily, and brings it to Henry with a smile on her face, expecting to see one on his in return. Instead he stares at the book as if he's never seen it before.

The knot in Emma's gut twists even tighter as she has to prompt Henry into acknowledging the book that means so much to him. This might take more than therapy to solve. What if he's under some sort of spell, or caught up in some version of Stockholm Syndrome, or worse? And there's no one she can talk to about it. She knows how quickly Regina gets her hackles up whenever Emma presumes to have deeper insight into Henry than she does, her parents will just tell her to sleep off her worries, and Neal—Neal still barely knows his son. He won't be any help.

She glances to where Hook sits at the counter, and finds him watching her, as he so often did in Neverland. She looks away quickly, feeling slightly reassured. At least someone still has her back, not that his opinion will matter to anyone but her. Even so, it's comforting to think that there's someone here who will trust her instincts without question.

~ ~ ~

As Emma sticks close to her family, sparing Killian little more than a smile, a dull ache grows in his chest and he looks away. 

He knows what he needs to do. Truth be told, he's known what he has to do ever since Emma's reprimand after the incident in the Dark Hollow. He glances up to see her smiling at Neal—touching his shoulder.

Killian turns back to Granny and orders another pint. It's mediocre beer, but it'll serve to dull the edge of his pain. And it'll give him the courage to do what must be done.

He's seen all too clearly the damage that can be done when a woman doesn't give closure to those who love her. He doesn't blame himself for Rumplestiltskin's decent into darkness or for Bae being taken by Pan, but he knows full well that he was the catalyst for what happened to those men, and all that followed. He'll not do to Henry and Bae what he did to Bae and Rumple. He was young and in love and foolish when he hid Milah from her family. He'll not force his way in again.

This needs to be Emma's choice. It needs to be her action. She needs to take the time to work things out with Bae—Neal—on her own. And if she chooses to be with Killian ( _when_ , gods he hopes it's a _when_ ), he knows she'll give Neal the closure he needs. And he knows she'll be able to make Henry understand that he can still be with both his parents, even if they aren't with each other.

Emma needs to be the one to do it. Not him. 

Until then, he needs to step back and give her some space. He needs to wait. After six lifetimes of waiting, he knows he can do it again. But gods, it's going to hurt.

He's glad when Neal takes the initiative and takes the stool next to him. It's easier than forcing himself to seek Neal out. And Killian tells him what he intends to do. 

Though Killian knows he is doing the right thing—the honorable thing—he can't help but get in one last dig, reminding Neal that he walked away from Emma once, and she might not be willing to let him back in. He's only human, after all.

He talks big, but he's not nearly as confident as he lets on. He believes that Emma feels the same connection and understanding with him that he does with her—he truly believes it. But for her, that might not translate into wanting to give him her heart. Not if she still loves another man. She might yet pick Neal, and if she does. . . That's something he doesn't want to think about, yet.

He watches, the ache in his chest growing by the minute, as Neal approaches Emma to invite her to a private rendezvous, and her hesitation gives him a brief spark of hope. But when her parents encourage her to accept the invitation, his hopes sink. He'd thought he'd won their respect, if not their approval, but they've barely glanced at him since making port. And now, it seems, they are clearly set on reuniting Emma with her son's father.

He downs the last of his beer and orders another, knowing that it'll take an ocean's worth to drown his sorrows tonight.

~ ~ ~

Emma feels a little heartsick when Henry seems eager to get away with her and spend the night at Regina's.

She's his mom, too. Emma knows that. But she can't help but think that this is all part of the same wrongness that she's been sensing in him since they landed.

A few minutes after seeing him off, she decides to head home, herself. She's already so tired that she knows the walk home won't be easy. If she waits any longer it might be impossible.

She glances at Hook again on her way to the door, but he doesn't raise his head to look at her. He's actually talking to the dwarves. Maybe they'll help him feel more welcome, here. She'd like that, and she doesn't want to interrupt, so she walks out the door without stopping.

After a long, hot shower to wash away the grime of Neverland, she sinks into her bed with a sigh. But instead of coming quickly, sleep eludes her. The apartment is too quite—too cold. Somehow, she's gotten used to the heat of Neverland and the sound of four other people breathing around her while the breeze shakes the trees overhead. Plus, her worries about Henry still parade through her mind over and over again, with no obvious solution.

It's not until after she hears her parents coming in and settling down for the night that she manages to fall asleep, but she wakes again before dawn, her instincts telling her that it's her turn to take watch. She sits up, half expecting a black-clad figure to be up watching over her, as he was so many nights over the past week.

Unbidden her thoughts stray to a heated moment in the jungle, when, in impassioned words, Hook had vowed to win her heart. He'd said that once they were safe the fun would begin. Will he keep his word? Does she want him to?

She lies back down and rubs her face. She doesn't have time for this right now—for Hook or for Neal. Not if something's wrong with Henry.

But, god, she wishes she had time. She wishes she really could have some fun, for once.

She tosses and turns again until the sun is long since up and she finally hears her parents stirring below.

Time to get up and face another day of problems to solve.

~ ~ ~ 

Killian wakes with sand in his mouth and a throbbing head. His stomach lurches as he sits up, blinking at the light filtering through floral curtains.

He rubs his head, trying to remember where in blazes he is.

His boots are toppled on the floor next to the cozy bed, and his coat is flung over a chair by a small writing desk. A desk bearing some stationary emblazoned, "Granny's."

Ah, yes.

The hazy memories of being ushered to a room by a pair of dwarves floats back to his mind. He's glad they took the time—he certainly never would have made it back to his ship, as drunk as he was.

He hasn't been this drunk since just after he got out of the hospital and learned that the crocodile had escaped his grasp yet again. Though only a month past, that memory seems like a lifetime ago, so much has happened since.

It was anger that drove him to drink then, and love that drove him to drink last night. He's not sure which is worse. Both have the power to tear him apart at the seams.

He swallows his nausea as he tugs on his boots and shrugs into his coat before ambling back down to the diner. He winces as he sinks onto a stool.

Granny raises her eyebrows. "You look a little worse for the wear. I have just the thing."

A few minutes later she sets a plate of eggs and potatoes laced with a spicy red sauce in front of him, and hands him a mug of strong coffee.

"You have my thanks," he says, breathing in the pleasant aromas, "but I'm afraid I don't have any of your currency . . ."

She shakes her head. "Don't worry about it. I'll keep you housed and fed through the end of week for no charge."

His eyes widen in surprise. "I'm much obliged to you, milady."

"You brought our people home. It's the least I can do."

Her small act of kindness lifts his spirits, and the breakfast soothes his hangover. But when it's over he finds himself feeling adrift, again. 

He's committed himself to waiting things out here—to waiting for Emma. But he has no idea what to do with himself.

"I don't suppose you have anything stronger than this?" he asks, waving his mug at Granny.

She frowns. "I don't serve alcohol until after 4:30, and _that_ I will ask you to pay for."

He sighs, fearing that he's on the way to losing her goodwill already. "Understood, milady."

She nods. "And _if_ you decide to stay longer than the week, we'll have to work out some form of payment."

He nods, noting her emphasis on the "if." It occurs to him that he's one of the few people in this town who can come and go as he pleases. Odd, that though these people seem to have everything that he lacks, he still possesses something that they envy—his freedom.

Pity he has no use for it.

After a second cup of coffee he makes the long walk back to the docks. His ship needs him. She's been through a rough voyage. He examines the hull for any external signs of damage, relieved to see none. After going below decks he takes an inventory of his supplies, but quickly loses heart. 

His mind isn't on his stores—it's on Neal's offer of a lunch meeting with Emma. 

Killian can't help but wonder if she'll come, and what they'll speak of. Will she mention him? Will he be on her mind at all?

He refills his flask from one of his three remaining rum-barrels, drains a quarter of it, and then fills it again.

With the light buzz running through his brain, he disembarks and heads back into town. He knows he's being foolish, but he can't seem to stop himself as he finds a secluded lookout just inside a dark alley across and down the street from Granny's. Lunchtime is fast approaching.

He takes a few more sips from his flask as he waits. Glancing at the sun he can see that it'll be noon, soon. But Emma still hasn't come.

The sudden dark fear enters his mind that perhaps she stayed the night in Neal's room, and he missed seeing her when he left after breakfast. He tries to shake off the thought. She's not ready for such a liaison, yet, he knows that. But he can't quell the ache in his chest at the thought.

He has to know for himself.

He stiffens his spine and strides across the street and into the diner. Neal sits alone at a table, clutching a coffee and staring at his hands.

David and Mary Margaret sit in another booth eating their lunch. 

But Emma is nowhere to be seen.

"Ready for some lunch, captain?" Granny calls from behind the counter.

"Perhaps in a bit," he mutters, heading out the back of the diner to his room. Shame and frustration well in his chest.

He's supposed to be doing the right thing. The honorable thing. Letting Emma make her own choice. Yet he's just spent the past hour acting like a jealous lover.

Emma owes him nothing. He has no claim over her. He needs to stop acting as if he has, no matter how much stepping back might hurt.

He takes a few more swigs of rum as he climbs the stairs. He'll give himself one more day to wallow. Tomorrow his ship needs more work, and after that, he'll go to David in search of valuable employment.

Today is his last day to act like a heartsick boy.

He nearly collides with Tink as she emerges from the washroom.

Seeing his old friend, just as lost in this world as he is, gives him just the distraction he needs. He flirts and smiles. Anything to take his mind off of Emma.

When Tink throws Emma's name back at his face, he flounders, still trying to wear his false swagger. He's paying the price for wearing his heart on his bloody sleeve, and he doesn't like it.

But he has no time for further thought when a distant scream breaks the air.

_Emma?_

He turns to run to help without further thought. That's what he does now. That's who he's become.

~ ~ ~

Emma heads to the sheriff's station after breakfast. Leroy and Belle have been managing things as best as they can, but they've left a stack of scribbled notes and half-complete reports piled on her desk. 

She rubs her face and tries to plough through the stack, doing her best to ignore the fact that Henry hasn't called yet, even though she asked him to.

Midmorning she finally caves and sends Regina a text, asking how he is. Regina replies a few minutes later that she let him sleep late, and now she's making him a large brunch. Emma can come get him later in the afternoon.

Emma closes her eyes and swallows, trying to accept the statement at face value. She wants to believe that her feelings about Henry are just paranoia—that everything really will be fine. But her gut won't let her believe that things could be that easy.

After another hour of paperwork she glances at the clock. It's past eleven already. Neal will be expecting her soon.

She grits her teeth in frustration. She's not ready for this. How can he expect her to sit down and dredge through eleven years of heavy baggage when she's barely had time to rest, yet? She knows he means well, but it's just too much too soon. She can't handle it today. But she can't stay here. Too many people know where to find her. She needs some time to herself—some time to clear her head.

Her feet carry her away from the station, and the cold air clears her head, but it does nothing to dispel her worries. Almost without thinking she finds herself walking toward the docks. Watching the ocean has always calmed her, and now . . . She's not ready to admit to any other motives. 

She walks along the docks, noting the usually activity of the fishing boats. The Jolly Roger still bobs passively by its dock, and she allows her gaze to linger on it for a few minutes. She takes a few steps toward it, wondering if Hook is there. Maybe he could help her work through her thoughts.

No. She shakes her head and turns to head further down along the shore. He'd only be another confusing distraction. Something else to stand in the way of figuring out what's wrong with Henry.

She finds a place to sit on a log in front of one of the shorefront warehouses and checks her phone again. No more texts from Regina. No messages, either. Henry still hasn't called.

The waves rolls in and out, white foam dancing along the rocky shore. Emma watches, trying to let her worries roll out along with the water, but they only turn into a dull ache at the back of her head. She has no answers.

She turns her head to look at the Jolly Roger again, but she sees no signs of movement.

It's foolish, really, to expect Hook to still be here at her side in Storybrooke. She needed him in Neverland—he knew the island inside out. But here . . . here _he_ is the outsider. Naturally he'd think she could handle things without him.

Maybe it _will_ help to talk to him. It won't solve her problems, but it might help her find her bearings again.

Before heading back to the Jolly Roger she checks her phone again. Still nothing.

That is when David finds her.

His talk is a little comforting. More comforting than anything else she's heard since returning. Maybe she does need to look for the good moments in her life. She needs _something_ to keep her going, before she runs out of strength. But then he brings things back around to Neal, and, like everyone else, he doesn't seem to understand that right now Neal is just another problem to solve—not one of the good moments he talked about.

As they head to his car she finds herself asking, "Are you sure you don't have other reasons for pushing me toward Neal?"

"Like what?" says David.

"Like keeping me away from Hook?" As soon as she says it she wonders if she's somehow admitted something to David that she hasn't even admitted to herself, yet. That though she's only been apart from him for a day, she misses Hook. That she wants him in her life—though she doesn't know in what capacity, yet.

David deflects her words with a silly joke, and she chuckles along with him, but on the ride to Granny's her mind keeps circling back around to the pirate. She shouldn't be thinking about him when she has Henry to worry about, and Neal to deal with. But for some reason she can't keep him out of her mind.

She hears something like a scream as David pulls up in front of Granny's, and another as she steps out of the truck, but she's distracted by the sight of Hook and Tink running out of the side entrance.

He didn't stay at his ship last night? Was he here with Tink? The pain of that thought brings an unexpected ache into her gut, and a question slips out of her mouth before she can stop it.

Tink's adamant "No," paired with Hook's smug, "Perhaps," only leaves her more confused, but the screams ring out again.

Once more, she has no time. No time for anything but the endless string of problems that always seem to burden her.

~ ~ ~

Killian regrets his foolish swagger in front of Emma as soon as they see the shadow fly away from its latest victim. His lady has too many problems to deal with without him adding to the mix.

He needs to sober up and be here to help her. That's what he does best.

He offers up his suggestions regarding Pan and then hangs back as Emma and David call Neal, Mary Margaret, Regina and the convent.

"I wasn't on good terms with Blue," says Tink softly, "but I never wanted to see her dead. If the shadow is targeting magic users, who knows who could be next?"

The thought is enough to make his gut clench. Emma and her family will surely be at the top of Pan's list of targets. He can't permit that to happen.

Soon enough the other's arrive, and when Neal suggests returning to his ship to fetch the magic candle, he's quick to follow. Emma and Regina can protect the boy, and their town. He needs to stop being a distraction and leave them to their work. If tracking the shadow with Neal is the best use of his talents, then that's what he'll do.

He sees the lines of worry on Neal's face as they walk to the docks. The man only just got his son back, and now he's faced with the prospect of losing him all over again. Killian can sympathize with his pain.

"Neal," he says, "we'll find a way to stop Pan. Emma never fails."

Neal glances at him with a furrowed brow, his jaw tight, and nods. "Yeah. Sure." He sounds unconvinced.

They fetch the candle and begin sweeping the town for signs of the shadow. But it's nowhere to be seen.

~ ~ ~ 

Emma's heart aches as David pulls a blanket over Mother Superior's body. She should've been able to stop this. She knew something bad was coming, but she didn't speak up soon enough. When would she learn to stop listening to her doubts and start trusting her gut instead?

She tries to lose herself in the flurry of action and planning. In a strange way it's almost reassuring to have the Neverland group around her once again, ready for action. But as soon as Neal declares his intentions to return to the ship, Hook turns to follow, Tink trailing along behind, without as much as a word to her.

Hook's willingness to help doesn't surprise her, but she finds herself wishing, just for a moment, that he'd stayed to help _her_ instead of following Neal. She puts it out of her mind when Henry so quickly clings to Regina, whimpering for protection. Her worries about Pan's lasting effect on him start sounding like alarm bells in her mind. But, just as she expects, Regina immediately gets defensive and possessive when Emma suggests something is wrong.

Emma bites her tongue and lets Regina take Henry away. She may not agree with Regina on many things, but of one thing she's certain—Regina will do everything in her power to protect Henry from Pan. For today, that will have to be enough.

In the meantime, she needs to talk to Gold. He's the one with the key to her problems locked away in his shop.

It's easy to forget her worries when she's got a plan. When she's moving. When she's acting instead of reacting. That's what she does best.

And her plan works perfectly, except it doesn't give her the results she expects. She's ready to pull the trigger the second Pan meets her eyes from just over the town line, but as she soon as she hears the word, "Mom!" escape from his lips, she knows she has a whole new set of problems to solve.

~ ~ ~

Killian sees the shock and worry on Neal's face when he answers the phone, and he parses together most of the story from Neal's incredulous words. "What do you mean _switched bodies_? What the hell? So Henry's with you now? The real Henry?" It goes on like this for another minute before Neal nods. "Got it. We'll meet you at the crypt."

After he hangs up, Killian meets his eye. "Am I correct in understanding that Pan somehow switched bodies with Henry?"

Neal nods. "Looks that way."

Killian curses. "On my ship. Under _my_ watch." He curses again. He let Emma down when she needed him the most. He failed to protect her son.

"It was under all our watches, man," says Neal. "And we're gonna fix it. Come on."

Killian silently fumes the whole way to the cemetery. It doesn't matter that all of them were aboard. He's the bloody captain, and it's his duty to control what happens on his ship. He let them all down. 

When they reach Regina's crypt, it's sealed tight. Neither his kicks nor his hook make a dent, and he grits his teeth in frustration. He let Pan sneak aboard his ship, he failed to find the shadow, and now he can't even open a bloody door. What good is he to Emma and her family if he keeps letting them down?

He feels as if he's been fumbling through the gray ever since landing in Storybrooke. He doesn't know when he'll find his way again.

~ ~ ~ 

The relief at hearing Henry's words again lifts Emma's heart—now she just needs to hear them in Henry's voice, instead of Pan's.

One more problem to solve.

She's got to keep moving. No time for rest. That's just not her life.

Her heart lifts a little more when she sees Hook and the others outside the crypt, but Hook meets her eyes briefly, an indecipherable look on his face, before he turns away. And when he steps forward with the candle, instead of handing it to her as she expects, he passes it to Neal, and turns his head away from her, as if avoiding her gaze.

Her heart contracts again.

Her son is in danger. Hook fought as hard as any of them to protect Henry back in Neverland—why is he turning away from her now? What's going on?

She turns to lean against a tree, her exhaustion and worry closing in on her from all sides. She needs to catch her breath before facing whatever waits for them down in that crypt.

It's all too much, sometimes. Why can't she have just one day of peace? One moment of happiness? It doesn't seem fair. But nothing about her life has ever been fair.

Her parents approach her, but their words of encouragement ring false in her ears. She doesn't get those good moments that David told her about. (She pushes down the memory of stubble scratching her cheeks as warm lips moved feverishly against her own. She doesn't have time for this.) Everything will not be okay. It never has been. 

"It's different," she insists. "My magic has a price. And the price of being the savior is . . . I don't get a day off." The realization leaves her feeling hollow inside—so drained and spent. She sees now that this is her life. It's never going to stop. She'll never be able to stop moving, or even to slow down. Things like fun, and peace, and _romance_ (she refuses to look at Hook again), they're just not in the cards for her. That's the price of what she is.

But it'll be worth it, if it means saving her son.

When she gets down into the crypt and Gold and Regina discover the missing curse, a deep despair wells in her chest.

No matter how fast she moves, no matter how hard she fights, it never seems to stop. Maybe this time she won't be enough.

But she fights back the urge to cry. She's the savior, damn it! And she'll keep fighting to the end, whether she succeeds or not. Because that's just what she does.

~ ~ ~

Killian hangs back to stand guard outside the crypt while Emma and her parents pass by. 

He feels like they've been passing each other by ever since stepping off of his ship—never meeting. Never standing still.

He swallows his pain and forces his eyes to search the cemetery for any lurking shadows.

He still has a job to do.

Whether Emma comes out of this crypt with good news or bad, he'll follow her lead and do what he can. 

Right now it doesn't matter whether she chooses him, or whether she chooses Neal.

He made his choice the moment he turned his ship around to come back to Storybrooke instead of saving his own hide. He chose Emma.

So he'll serve her, and fight for her family, even if the whole bloody mess comes crashing down around him in the end. That's simply what he does, and he's not about to quit now.

He hears them climbing the steps inside the crypt, and he turns, ready for whatever comes next.


End file.
